


Somebody’s going to die

by katiebuttercup



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Did I mention angst, Gen, Heavy Angst, The Final Problem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-17 02:44:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13067466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katiebuttercup/pseuds/katiebuttercup
Summary: John’s view on ILY sceneNotes: edited from the original on tumblr





	Somebody’s going to die

Molly Hooper.

No.

Everything inside John rebels at the thought of Molly being in danger. It couldn’t happen, not to Molly who was everyone’s last best hope, who had single handedly kept them above water since before Mary. 

And John just can’t. 

Watching people he didn’t know die was horrific enough; the fuel of nightmares to come but this is unthinkable. 

And then it gets worse. 

Those three words carved into a brass plate. 

He knows Molly loves Sherlock, everyone knows, he’s felt bad for her for years. 

But for the sake of her dignity they’d all kept Mum about it. Sherlock’s obliviousness working for once in their favour. 

But of course Eurus wasn’t going to let it lie. 

The phone call starts badly and goes straight to hell quicker than John can process.

Sherlock’s smooth superiority slipping away into panic and John’s insides freeze, he’s never seen Sherlock like this before, never seen him so out of control. Even off his tits there had been something in Sherlock that had been in control, however tenuous. An end game. 

He’s watched Sherlock under pressure on a case, watched it sharpen his friend’s purpose. 

But Sherlock is not in control here and it’s terrifying.

He tries several avenues, relied on old tactics and charm to cajole Molly but for once Molly refuses to play ball. She stone walls him at every increasingly desperate try.

John wants to turn away, wants to give his friend some privacy but there’s no where to hide, no respite.

Of all the horrors Eurus has thrown at them this is the worst and John wonders how Sherlock is going to walk away from the task the way he has with the others. But that’s ’s kind of the point. Eurus isn’t happy just torturing her brother. She wants witnesses.

And then Molly asks for the impossible. 

“Say it first, say it like you mean it,” 

John relies on all of his training to remain standing as Sherlock blinks stupefied. 

It’s impossible. 

Sherlock will never say it. Can’t say it. Sherlock in his way loves him and Rosie and he’d loved Mary and he likes Molly but love…this kind of love…he doesn’t think Sherlock is capable of it…and even if he were he most certainly didn’t feel that way about Molly Hooper.

Lie well, John silently pleads to Sherlock, ‘go for the oscar’ Molly can’t die she just can’t. He prays Sherlock goes all out for this lie. 

“I love you,” 

John winces, it’s not good enough. It rings hollow. There is a war inside his friend, emotions flow across sherlock’s face at break neck speed, his brilliant mind stuttering into oblivion.

“I love you,” John almost gives himself whiplash jerking his head up to stare at his best friend as if seeing him for the first time.

Sherlock’s face is open, bare and…the realisation settles over Sherlock’s features. He looks so young And old. Ageing a hundred years and looking like a little boy. 

He looks like he’s been knocked breathless. 

They wait, John prays, wishes harder then he has since Mary’s death. 

‘Please Molly,please don’t leave Sherlock here alone’

His confession hanging between them. Molly is still silent and the clock keeps running down.

And then, a whispered, “I love you,”

John lets out his breath he wasn’t aware he’s been holding. The relief is almost palpable it shudders down his spine, his legs and into the floor. 

And then there is nothing but static and Eurus is twisting the knife into the recently opened wound. 

Molly had been right after all, it really had been a stupid game. 

He squares his jaw when the door opens, takes this blow on the chin as he and Mycroft move on to the next challenge but Sherlock doesn’t follow. 

Sherlock moves as if he were in a dream and then a whirl of violence. 

It’s like watching a mirror of himself after Mary’s death. John feels every strike of that coffin as if he were the one destroying it.

His throat feels raw at Sherlock’s despair. 

It’s over in seconds. 

And so are a lot of things


End file.
